


Shall We Dance?

by shepavellan



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), Assassination Plot(s), Cinderella Elements, Costume Parties & Masquerades, F/M, Intrigue, Political Campaigns, Romance, Slow Burn, Xenophobia, it's just a mess people, peace talks, star crossed lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 20:59:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12734205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shepavellan/pseuds/shepavellan
Summary: Haunted war hero, Commander Shepard, wants to become the Citadel's first human spectre, both to further the growth of her species, and so that she can help others without being restricted by the suffocating laws of the Alliance.  But when she begins competing with a turian for the title, while simultaneously falling for another turian at a masked ball, she accidentally sets off a chain of events that may lead to war between their two species.---"But how am I supposed to know it's you?" He motioned towards their masks, then teased, "All you humans look alike anyway, and these certainly don't help."She chuckled and replied "I guess we'll just have to leave it up to fate."





	Shall We Dance?

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is a very strange AU, and I fully admit, there's probably gonna be some plot-holes just bear with me. Basically, this is some sort of giant uber-world where all of the different species evolved on their own continents, instead of their own planets, and instead of developing space travel, they went exploring the sea, and the rest of the world, and found each other. As for the Citadel, I'm kind of picturing something like Atlantis? There's gonna be a lot of fleshing this out as I go along, I really hope it all works out. Enjoy!

Shepard was trying to pay attention.  
She _really_ was.  
But Udina had about the worst monotone when giving a presentation that she had ever heard, and her cheek was getting heavy in her hand, and her blinks were getting longer and longer...  
"...and we must remember that the purpose of these masquerades is to _avoid_ political entanglements – your name, rank, or any other personal information are not to be offered, and you are not to ask the same of them." Udina's book was slammed on the podium with more force than necessary to articulate his point, startling Shepard from sleep. No doubt his intent, judging by the glare he threw her way. She resisted the urge to flip him off and settled into a new position to listen, hoping the change would keep her more awake. But it wasn't long before she was drifting again; luckily, her head falling forward woke her before Udina noticed, and Shepard gave up, discreetly pulling up her omni-tool to play some music in her earpieces. That would help keep her awake at least, and just before she closed it she received a message.

 _To: Shepard 08:28_  
_Something tells me the Commander should actually be paying attention at such a ~~tedious~~ important meeting, you know._  
_From: K_

Shepard looked up and glanced suspiciously around the room, and finally managed to catch a glimpse of Kasumi, who shot her a cheeky wink before blinking out of existence once more. One of the other men in the room glanced sharply to where the assassin had just been, but seeing nothing, returned to giving Udian a glassy-eyed stare.

 _To: Kasumi 8:29_  
_I did pay attention – the first 20 times we had this meeting. It's almost like they want an international incident, with all the different ways they keep telling us it could happen._  
_Come to think of it, aren't you supposed to be at this meeting too?_  
_From: Someone who could and should pull rank on you_

There was a couple minutes of droning from Udina and the thumping of music in her ears before she received another message.

 _To: Someone who is far too nice to pull rank on an old friend 8:31_  
_I am there. For the important parts. Like you said, we've had this exact same meeting a number of times. I think I can skip one._  
_From: An Old Friend_

 _To: An Old Friend 8:31_  
_Have you been to any of these?_  
_From: Exasperated and Tired_

 _To: An Old Friend 8:36_  
_Your silence is deafening._  
_From: Exasperated and Tired_

A few decades or so before Shepard had been born, humanity had made it's way across the sea to explore the world, and found many other species in their travels. Once humans had established themselves as a thriving race, they were officially invited to the Citadel, a city where all species could convene peacefully, and where international business was held. The Council was the highest form of government, currently run by an asari, a turian, and a salarian. The turian council member was most surprising, given that they were the last species to make international contact before humans. Shepard sometimes thought her species had taken that as a direct challenge, as humanity seemed dead set on having a say in what the council said and did as soon as possible. Whether or not they were ready for that Shepard really couldn't say, but their relations with the turians didn't seem to be a very good indicator of that. The relationship had started rocky and gotten no better, with turians believing as many other species were starting to, that humans were too easily influenced by their emotions, and had a tendency towards violence. Things had gotten particularly bad over the past few years, with threats and actual acts of violence growing more common among citizens. These masquerades were meant to be a place where turians and humans alike could be on an even keel. No one, besides those actually running the party, would be identifiable by their position or rank, and the anonymity was meant to provide a certain sense of freedom, as studies had proven it often could. It would be mainly those of nobility and high military rank attending, hoping to foster a feeling of peace among influential members of each species.  
Personally, Shepard thought the whole thing was just a sham to prove they could act amicable with each other and avoid war for a little while longer – but she didn't think they would be able to stay peaceful for long. She had never seen the animosity do anything but get worse.  
Finally, the meeting was drawn to a close, and Shepard heaved herself up to leave, only to be halted by Anderson. "Hold on a moment, Shepard. We'd like to have a word with you."  
Curious, Shepard sank back down in her seat as the other Alliance members filed out. Udina continued to shoot seething looks her way whenever Anderson's back was turned. Were they really going to lecture her for falling asleep during the meeting like she was in school again? True, it hadn't been the most _professional_ thing in the world, but at least one man in that room had been softly snoring. Although, how he'd managed to do that with his eyes open was -  
"Shepard," Anderson interrupted her thoughts when the door closed behind the last person. She now rose and approached the two men. "There's been a...development."  
"What kind of development?" She asked, growing tense now. Was it something to do with the turians? And why did Udina look like he'd just sucked on a lemon?  
"I received this message this morning," Anderson replied, and handed her a datapad. She read through it once. Then again. Then a third time just to be sure. Was tempted to squint and refresh the page, but Udina coughed to hurry her up.  
"This...this is a joke, right?" She asked tentatively, glancing between the two of them. It didn't look like a joke.  
"No joke, Shepard." Anderson said.  
She glanced down at the datapad again.

 _To: Captain David Anderson 6:00_  
_We hope this message finds you well, Captain. As you are no doubt aware, the annual Spectre Competition will be held soon, and we The Council believe that your daughter, Commander Jane Shepard, would make an excellent candidate. As such, we would like to extend her a formal invitation._  
_As her commanding officer, you have the right to refuse this invitation for her, should you believe she is not fit to be a Spectre, is unable to refuse herself, or she is not legally allowed to compete for any of the reasons listed in The Spectre Competition's Handbook (a copy will be sent to you after this message.)_  
_Should you and the Commander accept, she will need to register to compete, and the steps that must be taken to do so are also listed in the handbook. We look forward to hearing your response._

_From: The Citadel Council_

A Spectre.  
She had the chance to become a _Spectre._  
That was...not something she'd ever thought would actually happen.  
Sure she'd _thought_ about it. Her days serving in the Alliance had started as soon as she was of age, under the guidance of her adopted father, David Anderson, and there had been whispers for years that the Council was considering appointing the first human Spectre. Plenty of humans had entered before, but no human had ever been _invited._ That could only mean they thought quite highly of her.  
The Spectre Competition was held once a year, as the Council only appointed one Spectre a year, to keep from giving too many people that power. The unfortunate reality of a Spectre's life was that they tended to be rather...short. There was an uncomfortably high turnover rate, but it meant they could appoint the title to a new person every year without causing much issue. Anyone could register and try, but very few people were invited to join. Those were the people who tended to stick it out the longest, and eventually earn the title, so long as the Council approved. It was perfectly possible to win the competition and still not be named a Spectre, if the council deemed you unfit for the position. However you couldn't become a Spectre without competing altogether. Shepard supposed if they really wanted to the Council could just appoint whomever they wished as Spectre without much fuss, but there were always multiple worthy candidates, so this helped them decide whom to pick.  
"Well?" Anderson asked, and she realized abruptly they had been waiting for her response.  
"I...um...I'd like to know your opinions, if you don't mind." She actually didn't give a shit about Udina's opinion, but politeness forced the words out of her.  
Naturally, the man leapt on the chance to voice his displeasure. "You are _hardly_ the right person for the job, Commander," he sneered. "You don't have nearly the required experience, you have _no_ discipline, and frankly we have no way of knowing that you won't use your powers to your own advantage!" He noticed too late the dark look Anderson was giving him – Udina's dislike of Shepard was no secret, and Anderson had no illusions that he could make the man act as if he did, but he'd gone too far with the insults. Udina cleared his throat uncomfortably. _"But,"_ he said, in the same way one might say 'let me finish!' "Having a human be appointed Spectre, especially from such a...respected family," the way he says respected made it sound like a curse. "Would be invaluable when it comes to our position in the Citadel." He meant it may help him become a counselor, even if he had to go through her to do it. Silently, she thought that if she _did_ become a Spectre, she would highly recommend that Udina was removed from any position of power. The man was a snake.  
Anderson cleared his throat to voice his own opinion, disregarding Udina's comments for the time being. "Personally, I think you're exactly the type of person Spectre status was made for, Shepard, and you've done more than enough to prove that you're worthy of the title." Udina actually grumbled. "And I couldn't be prouder," Anderson added.  
For a brief moment Shepard was startled by the urge to cry. But she swallowed the lump in her throat and gave him a firm nod instead. "Thank you, sir."  
"And what about you? How would you feel about taking the position?" He asks thoughtfully.  
Shepard considered the question carefully. While she had thought about it, she also knew she would be hard-pressed to find a soldier who _hadn't_ wondered what it must be like to become a Spectre. It was definitely a trade-off though. If she did win, and they granted her the title, there was a good change she wouldn't live past fifty, if she even made it that far.  
Then again, she wasn't exactly a stickler for safety precautions anyway, so maybe not much was changing there.  
"...At the very least I'd like to try. There's no shame in losing," she pointedly ignored Udina's scoff, "and if they do appoint me Spectre, I'll get to help people without all the red tape in my way." She flashed the a bright smile. "And either way, just the fact that they invited a human at all has got to count for something, right?"  
"Only if you _make_ it count, Commander," Udina warned. "Only if you make it."

\----

Shepard finally left the meeting hall with a thick-sounding congratulations from Anderson and more not-even-thinly-veiled disdain from Udina. She was able to take maybe five steps before a voice called out to her.  
"Shepard! _There_ you are, I've been looking all over for you!" Shepard managed to resist the urge to sigh as she turned to face Miranda in her typical no-nonsense white leathers and knee-high boots. Was it so much to ask for a moment to herself? Jacob stalked into their space as well, taking position just at the edge of her periphery. Hiring him had been a good decision. Usually it took no more than a look from him to get a particularly pushy journalist – or occasional fan – to back off. And when it took more than a look, well, he was perfectly capable of handling that too. Paparazzi could be an issue in the citadel, particularly when you were a celebrated veteran from a politically powerful family. The fact that she had been adopted into the family only made them all the more ravenous to tell her story. "I heard you're officially going to be joining the competition," Miranda says, reminding her that they were talking. "Which is a fantastic idea if you don't mind me saying. But there's a lot you're going to need to do to prepare."  
"How'd you hear that I'd be joining so fast?" Shepard asked.  
"Anderson sent me a message once you'd agreed and a copy of the handbook." Miranda brushed some imaginary lint off of her arm. "I also like to catch some of the competition myself, so I'm fairly well-versed in how it works already."  
'I like to catch some of the competition' was a pretty casual way of saying 'I'm a screaming die-hard fan,' and Shepard was already opening her mouth to tease her about it, but a well-placed glare had her thinking better of it.  
"You'll be competing against just humans first, as I'm sure you know, and once the final ten are left, you'll move on to competing against the other species as well. The first contest will be on marksmanship. Once you're officially registered you'll be automatically assigned a competitor to go against, and the computer will do the rest as people win and lose. For the moment I would recommend we don't say anything to the press – there won't be much we can do after the first contest, but we'll take the peace where we can get it." She blew out a sigh. "Lord knows there won't be much once they find out the infamous Commander Shepard is competing to be a Spectre."  
Miranda thankfully had as little patience for the paparazzi as Shepard did, and generally did her best to keep her out of the public eye. Occasionally she would insist Shepard give a small interview or something similar, but usually that was only to mollify journalists who had gotten particularly pesky.  
"There will be a few other small contests after that – agility, endurance, that sort of thing. The order tends to change from year to year, so I can't really tell you what will come next unfortunately. But I suppose that's part of the challenge." She kept her voice fairly low. Shepard figured she didn't want anyone who might be around to hear what they were talking about and get curious. They didn't pass many people, but it was possible. "Once we get through those there shouldn't be more than a handful of potentials left. Then you'll be assigned a working Spectre to shadow. Depending on how many candidates are left you might have to work with another challenger. The initial contests are going to be pretty public, so try not to get distracted by the spectators. All of the missions you go on however will be kept secret, and the Council will take every precaution to make sure you aren't compromised."  
Once they finally reached the shuttle bay Jacob did his obligatory check of the skycar, and then allowed Shepard and Miranda to enter first. Once they were underway, Miranda started up with her explanations once more.  
"Now there's a lot of ceremonies and speeches you'll need to attend, and there are certain procedures you'll need to follow when..." Shepard couldn't help tuning out when Miranda started going on about proper etiquette and manners. As far as she was concerned, if she got the job done, who cared if someone thought she was impolite or she wasn't impeccably dressed? And if she was being perfectly honest, she was already weary of talking about the inner workings of the competition. She just wanted to show up, do what needed to be done, and get back home where she can get some privacy and sleep. She suddenly tuned back in when she heard Miranda mention a name she detested vehemently. Her voice was deliberately casual, hoping Shepard wouldn't notice, or perhaps just let it go.  
"...and having a sponsor wouldn't hurt either, and you have plenty of options available to you. I'm sure Cerberus would be more than happy to --"  
"No."  
Miranda sighed heavily. "Shepard, just because they have one bad policy --"  
"One _barbaric_ poliy, Miranda." She leveled a hard stare at her. "I will _not_ work with or for a group that is openly and actively prejudiced against aliens. Humans are not the...the _default,_ but they act like aliens are somehow infringing on our rights just by existing. It's not happening."  
The women squared off briefly, but Miranda inevitably backed down first with a sigh. Shepard was the boss in the end, and she wasn't wrong either.  
"Very well. Nevertheless, at some point you may want to consider having a sponsor. They could help your image, and possibly provide better equipment if you feel you need it."  
Shepard hummed thoughtfully. It wasn't a bad idea, but she wasn't sure who she'd even go to. Not yet anyway. "I'll think about it." Something niggled at the back of her mind then. "Hey, what day is the first masquerade again?"  
She could almost see Miranda resisting the urge to lecture her for not paying attention during the meeting, but she settled for another small sigh instead. "They'll be held on the same day each of the competitions end. Since so many humans and turians compete each year, the results of the week will be something to discuss, and we're hoping it will build a sense of friendly sportsmanship." A bit of a dangerous idea, since that could easily become violent competitiveness instead, but at least all involved seem willing to try and create a more friendly atmosphere between the two species. So long as everyone could keep their cool, it would probably work out alright.  
Shepard was the one to sigh heavily now. "Great. Not only will I be exhausted from a long week of competing, but then I have to go to a party and be accosted by fans and journalists."  
Miranda frowned. "Ah. I hadn't thought about that."  
"Yeah, I don't think anybody did." Shepard rubbed at the headache rapidly growing in her temples. "Nothing to be done for it I guess. I doubt Anderson would let me skip out on the parties. He wants me to get better at interpersonal skills."  
"Can't imagine why," Miranda muttered, then studiously ignored the daggers Shepard glared her way, instead pretending to be deeply distracted by something on her omni-tool.  
Shepard gave up on her glaring and sat back in her seat. "I wish I could just...stop being Commander Shepard for a night, you know? It'd be a hell of a lot easier to talk to people then. Maybe they'd even ask me about something other than what happened on Akuze, or what it's like being Captain Anderson's daughter." Her words ended in a grumble, staring dejectedly out the window. This whole Spectre business was starting to look less and less appealing. She was _not_ looking forward to the extra attention she was going to be getting if she did win, not to mention how tired she would surely be by the end of all this. At least if she did become a Spectre she'd be away on missions often, so she'd get something of a break from all the media craze. Maybe if she kept busy enough for a few years the excitement would die down and she could come home in relative peace.  
Curious why Miranda had been so quiet, Shepard glanced back at her friend, who had a thoughtful look on her face and was staring into the distance. "Miranda?"  
"Stop being Commander Shepard for a night..." She murmured, then turned to meet Shepard's confused gaze. "I might have an idea, if you're up for it. Like you said, Anderson is likely not going to let you miss the parties, so you can work on your...socializing skills. But there's no reason you have to be Commander Shepard to do that, is there?"  
Shepard blinked owlishly at her. "I don't follow."  
"What if we disguised you? We've kept you out of the media enough that anyone who doesn't know you personally wouldn't recognize you if we do it right, and the mask will cover up a lot of your features anyway. You won't exactly be getting any rest, but at least you can enjoy the party as a normal person, instead of as...well, you. No offense," she added quickly.  
Shepard's mind raced. A night where she didn't have to be her? Where she could just be...normal? And hell, there were gonna be multiple parties, could she do this every time? That sounded like the most relaxing thing in the world as far as she was concerned.  
"That...sounds _amazing,_ " Shepard said. "I don't know if Anderson will go for it, though. He may say I have to learn how to talk to other political figures as Commander Shepard, not...just anybody."  
"True," Miranda replied, then began furiously typing away on her omni-tool again. "Try telling him this will be like practice. These parties are supposed encourage anonymity anyway. You're just a bit..." Miranda glanced at Shepard's bright red hair. "...conspicuous. In the meantime, I'll make some preliminary arrangements. So long as he agrees, we can make this happen. You may need to give a fake name, but I expect most people will be doing that anyway. I'd start thinking of what you'd like to be called." Just as she said that they were pulling up to the Human Embassy.  
"Alright, I'll talk to Anderson as soon as he's free. He may have beaten us here in fact, so I might be able to let you know in the next couple of hours."  
"Sounds good. I need to make arrangements to have you escorted safely to and from the competitions; sky cabs aren't going to be enough once it's made public that you'll be competing. I'll talk to you later."  
"Sure," Shepard said, and waved her off before heading up the short walkway to the building.  
A quick trip up the elevator to the Alliance offices later, she walked down the corridor to Anderson's corner office.  
"Understood...yes, I'll speak to you in the morning then. Goodbye." He hung up and turned his attention to Shepard then. "Shepard. Did you need something?"  
"Yeah, I...well, Miranda and I both I guess had this idea, and I was wondering how you'd feel about it." She briefly explained what she and Miranda had discussed in the shuttlepod, and when she had finished Anderson sat back in his chair with a thoughtful look on his face.  
"Hmm. It's an interesting idea." He then frowned. "I hadn't realized how badly you needed a break."  
Shepard looked away awkwardly. "Yeah, well...at least gives me the perfect chance to get one." Talking about feelings - even stress – wasn't something she did, not even with her adopted father. Anderson looked almost as uncomfortable as she was, and cleared his throat before moving on.  
"In that case, I agree. On one condition," he quickly added, stopping Shepard from thanking him and leaving as she was about to do. "No skipping out on any of the masquerades. I want you to attend each one of these. I know you'll be tired, but you're going to need to learn how to work under much worse conditions anyway if you do become a Spectre."  
Shepard deflated a little, as she had been hoping that she'd be able to skip one or two by claiming exhaustion. But he was right – besides, she had been in the Alliance. This couldn't be any worse than what she'd dealt with through them, right?  
"Alright, deal." They shook hands with a shared smile.  
"In the meantime, I'd get some practice while you can. Just because you're in the Alliance doesn't mean you're guaranteed to win. You'll need every edge you can get. There'll be some tough competitors this year." After a moment of thought, he added "Maybe get some new armor too."  
"Good idea, I'll do that." With that, she turned to leave and head home. "I'll see you later, Anderson."  
"Good luck, Shepard."

\----

"Shepard!"  
Shepard turned around at the sound of her friend's lilting voice, having just left Anderson's office. She smiled as Tali jogged up to her, deep purple robes just brushing the ground behind her ankles, and squeezed her hand in what was essentially the quarian version of a hug.  
Tali and Shepard had met a few years ago when Shepard had been looking into a crime lord who went by the name Fist – his actions had been severe enough to get the Alliance involved. Tali had been carrying some sensitive information that she'd intended to sell to Fist, but had gotten a bad contact, and had Shepard not arrived following up on a lead, she'd probably have lost her life that day, since she had been on her own. Since then she'd followed in her father's footsteps, and was now an Admiral in the Quarian Fleet. Some people said she was merely "riding on her father's coattails," to use a human phrase, but Shepard knew Tali was more than deserving of the position, and she was more than happy to prove it.  
Humans and quarians didn't have nearly the same animosity between them that humans and turians did, and Shepard couldn't help thinking that it was, at least in part, due to the fact that quarians didn't have a spot on the council, nor did they seem to be gunning for one. She loved her people, but they had a tendency to be unnecessarily...competitive.  
"What are you doing here?" Shepard asked curiously.  
"I was taking a call with Miranda a few minutes ago – she mentioned you were here." Tali explained, then bumped her shoulder as they walked along. " _And_ that you were invited to join the competition. Congratulations, by the way."  
Shepard glanced around to make sure there was no one around to hear – not that she thought Tali would be so uncareful, it was just a reflex. "Thanks. We're keeping it quiet for the moment."  
"Of course. The great Commander Shepard is sure to cause a ruckus," Tali teased, making her friend groan. "In any case, you have my support. I'll even come to the first competition next week."  
That thought made Shepard pause. While she was of course happy that Tali had her back, it was very possible that anything her friend did to show her support could have political ramifications, due to both of their positions. Their friendship was no secret, but with the Spectre Competition being as big as it was, they would need to be careful with everything they did. Shepard wondered just how big of a headache this was going to turn out to be. The Competition hadn't even _started_ yet.  
"I suppose coming to watch would be fine but – and don't take this the wrong way – maybe don't be too vocal about your support for me," Shepard said hesitantly. Luckily Tali didn't _seem_ insulted...though it was hard to tell under the mask. "I wouldn't want our friendship to make your work any harder, or for people to go against you just because you're rooting for me."  
Tali considered this for a moment. "I see what you mean. That could go badly for both of us in fact," she added. Shepard nodded in agreement. "I'll keep it subtle, promise." She then squeezed her friend's hand again. "But since we're alone, I am _so_ excited for you!"  
Shepard smiled. "Thanks, Tali. I'm excited too. Mostly. Also wondering if this is gonna be more trouble then it's worth."  
Tali laughed as they left the Embassy, heading to Shepard's apartment.

\----

Shepard pulled on her new leather gloves and stretched her fingers to test their flexibility. She'd used them a few times since she'd bought them the week beforehand; they weren't as broken in as she would like, but they would have to do. Shepard had a tendency to use her gear until it fell apart, and her last set wasn't fit for something like the Spectre Competition. She may not be the spokesperson for etiquette, but even she knew that. The leathers were light, built more for quick movement that actually protecting her that much. When it came to the contests where she would actually be shot at she would consider buying something more durable. The marksmanship contest would just be her shooting at targets with another competitor however. Everything from how many targets they shot to how fast they reloaded would be tested, and calculated into their score. Whoever had the most points won, and moved on. She would just be competing against humans this week, and at the end, the ten of them who had the most points and had shown the most skills would move forward to the competition proper. Technically, the Council could always disqualify someone if they so chose, or choose a competitor to move on even if they hadn't won – but these things were done with extreme rarity, and only with good reason. A human who had signed up the previous year had been disqualified when he had committed a major crime – Shepard couldn't remember exactly what it was. She might have been able to recall it more easily if Miranda hadn't been beside her in the locker room, incessantly chattering away.  
"...and I know you're not as comfortable with pistols as you are with assault rifles, so just try to relax and remember to breathe. The Council will be watching, so you must follow all of the rules. No improvising. Remember, no --"  
_"Miranda,"_ Shepard interrupted. "We've gone over the rules at least a dozen times already."  
Miranda pursed her lips irritably. "I just want to make sure you have your best chance out there, Shepard."  
"You said I need to relax, right?" She echoed. Miranda nodded. "Then please. _Stop talking._ "  
Miranda threw up her hands in exasperation, but walked away and left Shepard to her own devices. As she was lacing up her boots her omni-tool pinged, and Shepard pulled up the message.

 _To: Shepard 11:23_  
_You're up next aren't you? I'm in the stands – can't wait to see you shoot! Are you nervous?_  
_From: Tali_

Shepard smiled. She and Tali had been talking all morning, and she was fairly convinced that her friend was more excited for the competition than she was. She started up a reply.

 _To: Tali 11:24_  
_Thanks, and no, not at all. These kids don't know what's about to hit 'em. ;)_  
_From: Shepard_

"Shepard!" Miranda called, causing her to look up. "It's time to go."  
Shepard straightened and brushed off her new leathers – then held out her arms when she noticed Miranda staring. "How do I look?" She asked, only half serious.  
Miranda considered for a moment, and then said "Like a Spectre." Shepard blinked, surprised. "Good luck, Shepard. I mean it."

\----

"That was _amazing!"_ Miranda was saying as they headed to their shuttle. The Council had luckily had the forethought to hire some guards for the events, who were currently keeping back the paparazzi that had _flooded_ the area outside the stadium. Shepard could barely hear Miranda over the commotion.  
The contest had gone very well, as far as she was concerned. She hadn't been the best – that honor had surprisingly gone to a young soldier named Richard Jenkins, who had positively beamed with pride at the end of the contest. He'd stumbled over his words when he'd met Shepard, who'd laughed and congratulated him. She was in no way out of the competition however – the final eliminations wouldn't happen until the end of the week, and she had every intention of proving her worth before then.  
Miranda babbled animatedly about the contest, having been in the stands herself. Her eyes were alight with excitement. Shepard couldn't help a little laugh, and interrupted the woman.  
"But uh, you're just a casual fan, right Miranda?" She teased.  
Miranda shut her mouth at once and scowled. "Don't let your score make you slack off, Shepard," she said, changing the subject purposely. "There's no guarantee you'll do as well in the coming days. You need to stay at the top of your game."  
Shepard considered not allowing Miranda's rabid enjoyment of the contest to slide so easily, but took mercy on her. "Don't worry, I'm well aware that the competition is tough. I'll stay on top of things."  
"Good," Miranda replied as they neared the skycab. Shepard gave a reluctant wave to some of the journalists as they passed by, but didn't stop to answer questions. Once safely tucked into the cab, Miranda continued. "Now then, let's go over some things for the masquerade. We'll need to get you a colored wig. I think black or blonde would be best. Brown is closer to red, you might be more easily recognized."  
"Let's do black then. Nothing too long."  
Miranda nodded and typed away on a datapad for a moment. "Alright. Eye color shouldn't be a problem, but would you like to get some colored contacts anyway?"  
Shepard frowned. She'd worn contacts before, and they made her eyes itch. But she imagined the absolute _scandal_ all the reporters would go on about if she were discovered and decided not to take any chances. "Yeah, let's do that."  
"Alright. It'll be short notice, so I can't promise what color you'll get."  
"That's fine."  
Miranda hummed thoughtfully as she typed away again. "We'll have to pick your mask later, since it'll need to match the dress." She leveled a look at Shepard. "Which means--"  
"No."  
"We have to --"  
"Don't say it."  
"Go shopping."  
_"Why."_

\----

Shepard had nothing against feminine habits, even if she wasn't traditionally feminine herself. She may not have a clue how to apply makeup or pay much attention to current fashions, but she had complimented Miranda on her looks before and admired many of the robes Tali owned. It just wasn't something she had any particular interest in herself.

But shopping, she hated. Clothes shopping specifically, if she were being completely honest (not that shopping _should_ be considered a feminine habit, but that was an argument for another day.) It took _forever,_ and she quickly grew weary of changing her clothes over and over again to make sure the size was correct. _Why_ there wasn't a universal sizing system was beyond her. At least with the dress shopping they had taken her measurements first, so everything they brought her fit, but they took longer to get into than normal clothing, which sort of soured the whole thing.  
"Miranda, if she brings me one more thing with ruffles, I'm gonna shoot her." Shepard barked through the changing room door. She realized too late that the saleslady had still been nearby, hearing her feet scuttle away at the threat. She decided she would feel badly about that later.  
"Shepard, try to be reasonable--"  
Shepard opened the door just enough to poke her head out and shoot Miranda a glare that could turn grown men to stone.  
"... _Fine."_ she huffed, and Shepard shut the door once more. "But you can't wear anything that will look too much like what Commander Shepard would wear. We can't risk you being recognized."  
"But isn't the point for her to be able to relax?" Tali piped up, nearing the door from wherever she'd wandered off to. "If she's uncomfortable the whole night, won't that be difficult?"  
Miranda grumbled to herself for a moment about them teaming up against her. "Why did I let you come again?"  
Shepard _may_ have told Tali about their plans for the masquerade without letting Miranda know. In her defense, given all the stress she was going to be under from the Spectre Competition, she had figured she shouldn't add to her worries by keeping secrets from her best friend. Tali had been thrilled by the whole idea, and offered to help immediately. Having her along on the shopping trip was actually quite soothing to Shepard's nerves. Miranda was still noticeably peeved about the whole thing.  
"I agree with Tali."  
"Of course you do," Miranda sighed. "Look, you don't have to come out in a full ball gown or anything, but I do need you to step out of your comfort zone a _little,_ here. Left to your own devices you'd probably show up in your old Alliance armor."  
"I would not," Shepard said defensively. She'd actually been planning on wearing her Dress Blues but Miranda had given her a look of abject horror when she'd mentioned it. "And do I have to pick more than one?"  
Miranda thought for a moment. "No, I suppose not. Just pick one for now and we can have others sent to you that are similar."  
_Thank God,_ Shepard thought to herself, then reached up to grab the next black dress that was flipped over the top of the door. She held it up and sighed with relief – finally, something _simple._ It had wide shoulder straps and the skirt only flared a bit, starting just above her knees rather than at her hips. The back dipped a bit low, but wasn't completely backless, like some of the others she had seen. She was tempted to simply tell Miranda it fit fine and just go with this one, but decided to muscle through.  
After a few minutes of awkward wiggling, she finally managed to get the fabric to sit on her properly and opened the door with a satisfied huff, not bothering to see what she looked like. "There, got it."  
Miranda and Tali both looked surprised – well, Tali took a half-step back, which Shepard took to mean she was surprised. "Oh...wow." Miranda muttered.  
"What?" Shepard asked, uncomfortable with the staring.  
"You just look very...elegant."  
Shepard snorted. That was not a word people associated with her.  
"No really," Miranda insisted, and tugged her over to nearby mirror. "Look."  
Shepard almost choked when she saw herself. Whereas before she had been all too obviously a soldier awkwardly stuffed into an evening gown, muscles clashing awkwardly with all the _frills, _this one actually looked like it was made for her body type. It didn't attempt to conceal her scars or make her arms look smaller, but rather seemed to bring attention to them. She looked _powerful,___ and yeah, even elegant.  
Tali came up beside her and helped Miranda tug the fabric into somewhat better positioning in a few places. Once done, Miranda gave a satisfied nod. "I would say that's the one. I don't know why I thought long sleeves would be a good idea. This is much better."  
"I agree," Tali said, squeezing Shepard's shoulder. "You look like a war goddess."  
That surprised a laugh out of Shepard. "I wouldn't say it's _that_ good, but thanks. I actually do like this one." She glanced at Miranda. "You sure we can get more like this?"  
"Probably. Might have to get a few custom made, but we'll have time for that." She hesitated for a moment. "I still think a sponsor would be a good idea."  
Shepard knew exactly who she wanted to sponsor her, and frowned. The only reason Miranda hadn't mentioned Cerberus' name was because Tali was in the room. "And I told you I'll think about it." She did her best not to glare. "If we can find a company or person with a good reputation who wants to sponsor me, then maybe we'll do that."  
Tali paused, and Shepard imagined she was glancing between her and Miranda, sensing the underlying tension. "Is there something wrong with having a sponsor?"  
"No," Shepard said quickly, cutting off Miranda before she could reply. "I just want to make sure if I do have a sponsor it's someone who won't try to use my image just to boost their own or something."  
"Ah. That makes sense."  
"Anyway," Shepard continued, ignoring Miranda's glare. "You and Kasumi are gonna come help me get ready before the masquerade, right?"  
"Of course, this whole idea is so exciting! It's like --"  
"Kasumi?" Miranda interjected. "I wasn't aware that _another_ person had been told about this."  
Shepard flicked some imaginary lint off of her shoulder. "Oh, did I forget to mention that?" Miranda tapped her foot. "Look, it's Kasumi's _job_ to keep secrets, she's not gonna tell anybody."  
Miranda threw up her hands for the second time that day, walking away while saying "Of course not, how could she, when _you'll _be telling everyone first." She then muttered something about not being paid enough for this while walking to the counter to take care of the dress. The irony made Shepard chuckle.__  
"As I was saying," Tali continued. "I'll definitely be there. It's all so mysterious and romantic."  
"What do you mean?" Shepard asked as she re-entered the changing room.  
"Think about it," Tali's voice floated to her through the door. "You get to be this whole other person, hiding your face so no one knows who you really are, dressed like you're in a fairy tale." Her voice then changed to deliberately girlish and dramatic. "And a masked man will sweep you off your feet and you'll have a secret romance in the night!"  
Shepard snorted again as she finished changing and walked out. "Yeah. _That's_ what's gonna happen."  
"Who knows," Tali teaed. "Maybe it will even be a turian."  
The bewildered look that crossed Shepard's face made her friend laugh. "Not sure how that would work with all the pointy bits," Shepard said dubiously.  
"Oh I'm just kidding," Tali replied as they went to join Miranda. "...Some of them _are _pretty attractive though."__  
Shepard rolled her eyes. "Yeah, who knows, maybe I'll met my turian Prince Charming in a few days."  
"That's the spirit."

\----

"Would you stop fiddling with it."  
"It _itches."_  
"Well if you would stop moving it around maybe it would stop!"  
Shepard groaned to herself in front of the large mirror in her bedroom while Kasumi stood behind her and adjusted the black wig for the fiftieth time. The stupid thing was irritating her scalp to no end.  
"You're just not used to it yet," Miranda said from across the room, typing something on a datapad. "Try not to think about it for a little while and the itching will stop."  
"Little hard to think about something else when I'm so damn _itchy,"_ Shepard grumbled, making Miranda sigh.  
The week had gone extraordinarily well, as far as the competition was concerned, with Shepard ultimately coming out on top. She'd done best with her assault rifle, getting record high marks in all areas, and broken the record for speed during the pistols round. She and the remaining nine other contestants would be advancing to the first round being held at the Spectre Stadium next week, when all species would be attending. For tonight however, she was in Kasumi's apartment, which she had allowed Shepard to get ready for the masquerade in. How she'd gotten the money for an apartment in the Presidium, Shepard didn't want to know.  
She was sitting at a vanity, staring in the mirror at a stranger. Black waves fell over one of her shoulders, tied low at the side of her neck, and blue eyes instead of green peered at her now clear skin, usually dusted with freckles. Kasumi had flitted around her for the last hour, helping her with the makeup Shepard had been clueless about, Tali chiming in helpfully now and then. It had mostly been about hiding the freckles, but Kasumi had also done something she called _contouring,_ and it had made her face look more angular than usual. At last the mask was placed over her eyes, covered in crushed velvet with black beads sewn onto it in a simple pattern. Overall, Shepard didn't think anyone would recognize her, seeing as she could barely recognize herself. It was perfect.  
Miranda stepped into her view and tilted her head. "You know, at first I thought all the black might be a bit much," she began thoughtfully. "But you pull if off really well. It looks very classy."  
Tali nodded in agreement and Kasumi patted Shepard's shoulder, looking proud of her work. "You're gonna knock 'em dead," she said confidently.  
"The point is to go unnoticed," Shepard pointed out. "I don't wanna be knocking anyone anywhere."  
"The _point_ is to enjoy yourself," Miranda said unexpectedly.  
Shepard turned her head to gaze at the woman incredulously, realizing belatedly that her friends had done the same.  
Miranda had the decency to look a little sheepish. "I know I've been harping on you about doing things just so tonight Shepard, but I really do want you to have a good time. I'm sorry I've been so..."  
"Anal?" Shepard offered helpfully.  
"I was going to say controlling," Miranda deadpanned. "But yes."  
"It's alright," Shepard forgave easily. "You were just trying to help. I could probably stand to be a little less..."  
"Lazy?" Miranda suggested with a quirked eyebrow.  
Shepard grinned. "I was gonna say laid back."  
Kasumi gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Well, now that the warm fuzzies are out of the way, I think it's time for you to get going, Shepard."  
"One last thing," Miranda said, pulling up her omni-tool. "I'm sending this encryptor to you, be sure to turn it on. It'll disguise your voice somewhat – it won't change it completely, mind you, but it will help."  
Curious, Shepard pulled up her own omni-tool and quickly installed the encryptor, then cleared her throat. "Uh...testing? I guess?" She said experimentally, and grinned at the change in her voice. It wasn't anything drastic, she just sounded a little breathier, and perhaps pitched a bit lower.  
"By the way" Miranda asked as Shepard toed on the comfortable boots she'd chosen for the night. "What name did you decide to go with?"  
Shepard tossed a smile over her shoulder as she neared the door. "Alison Gunn."

______\----_ _ _ _ _ _

Ambassador Udina and Councilor Sparatus were at the front of the room, droning on about peace and 'a new start for their species' and other such nonsense – Shepard wasn't even pretending to listen then. Instead she gazed around the room, giddy at the amount of stares she was decidedly not getting. Humans and turians alike stood about in the large ballroom, some glancing around as she was. Every now and then, someone would meet her eye, and for a frightening second she would think they recognized her – but then they would move on, and she had to resist beaming for it. Tali had been right; this was exciting. She felt excited and jittery knowing that no one in the room knew who she really was. She wondered if Kasumi felt this way when she used her uncanny ability to be seen but not noticed.  
Her gaze fell on various partygoers curiously. Some were easy to spot, like Anderson. A very simple Alliance blue mask covered his eyes, but in his uniform and with his unmistakable stature, he was hardly anonymous. He met her eyes too, and gave her a small nod. Shepard wondered if he knew. Surely her father would be able to see through the disguise, even if no one else could. Granted, he wasn't her real father of course, but he knew her better than anyone. The turians were less easy to identify. She had spent very little time with any, and certainly not enough to really be able to recognize any distinguishing features. At some point, she was very likely going to have to communicate with one of them in some way, and she worried a little that she might make a fool of herself in front of someone very important. But in the end, the night only lasted so long, and by tomorrow she'd be Commander Shepard again, who as far as anyone knew, had been far too tired to attend the party. Any embarrassment would be only temporary.  
The speech finally ended with a round of polite applause, and Shepard could have sworn a wave of relief went through the throng of people as they began to mingle. Natural groups began to form, though with a frown Shepard noticed that most of the groups consisted of only one species. She may be nervous to interact with the turians, but that didn’t mean she didn't intend to try. She wasn't sure she could say the same of her fellow humans.  
Shepard began a slow walk around the room and plucked a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter, trying to decide where she should go. For the first time, her options were completely open. She didn't have any politicians that needed updates from her, or journalists clamoring for her attention. In fact, the few journalists who were there were being remarkably well behaved. Shepard glanced over curiously at a man who was bent in front of an open wall panel, tinkering with some wires with his tools and muttering angrily. She furrowed her brow, wondering what he was doing, when she bumped into a firm shape in front of her. Shepard stumbled, champagne sloshing over her fingers as she tried to keep her balance, and a taloned hand shot out to steady her. She stared at the alien arm for a moment as she regained her footing, then looked up sharply at the turian she'd just barged into.  
Turian masks were strange and angular, covering more of their faces than most of the humans' did, though she'd seen some markings peeking out from beneath a few of them. Either this turian had no markings, or his black mask covered them completely. Icy blue eyes caught her own, reflecting oddly in the light and reminding Shepard of nocturnal predators. She'd gripped the arm that had caught her for balance, and her fingers tightened on the strange material covering him nervously for a moment before she released him.  
"I, ah, sorry. Thanks." Shepard said clumsily as they stepped back from each other.  
The turian cleared his throat awkwardly. "No problem – you okay?" Shepard nodded. "Good. Oh hey, your drink spilled," he noted.  
Shepard glanced at her now near empty glass and frowned at the small puddle on the floor. Luckily it seemed one of the kitchen staff had noticed and was already headed over with a towel. She was impressed by how quick they were. The turian glanced around and grabbed another glass of champagne and some blue colored drink she couldn't name from another tray, handing the former to her. She thanked him and they both took a sip.  
"Sorry about that," the turian said as he lowered the blue concoction. "I should probably actually look where I'm walking."  
Shepard snorted. "Guess the blame's on both of us then, I wasn't looking either."  
His mandibles flare out a little, and Shepard wondered if it was a good sign. Maybe it was similar to a smile? The turian glanced away at something for a moment, and Shepard's back unintentionally stiffened as she eyed the sharp teeth that became visible. Annoyed with herself, she forced her spine to relax as he turned back to her, and stuck her hand out in greeting.  
"I'm Alison Gunn," she introduced herself before she lost her nerve.  
The turian looked briefly surprised – at least, she _thought_ he might – but gripped her hand amiably. Shepard was surprised how easily their hands fit, and how startlingly warm his hide was.  
"I'm...er..." The turian glanced away again, and if she was reading him correctly at all, Shepard thought he might look a little panicked. She remembered that tonight was supposed to be about anonymity and it occurred to her that she might not be the only one who needed a fake name.  
"Alison Gunn was the name of the heroine in my favorite story when I was a child," Shepard said helpfully, bringing his gaze back to her.  
"Really?" He asked curiously. She nodded, and thought she saw his shoulders relax a little. "Well then...Raguel." His voice was a little uncertain at first, but then he repeated it with more strength. "Raguel," he then gave her hand a firm shake.  
Shepard smiled. "Nice to meet you."  
"Are you enjoying the party?" Raguel asked after silence had stretched for an uncomfortable amount of time. Shepard didn't really have any idea what to say – and neither, it seemed, did he.  
"To be honest...not really," Shepard confessed. "It's all a bit..."  
"Stiff?" Raguel supplied. She nodded. "I see what you mean. This party is supposed to be about turians and humans getting to know each other, but there doesn't seem to be much of that going on," he grumbled, eyeing the room around them. As before, no one in the room seemed terribly interested in intermingling.  
"I noticed," Shepard replied, equally displeased. She was adult enough to admit the turians made her nervous, but she also knew that that fear was a _fault,_ and one she intended to fix. They deserved the same amount of respect she'd give anyone else. Coming to a decision, she gave a firm nod of her head. "What do you say we change that?"  
Raguel looked at her curiously. "What do you mean?"  
"I don't have any company for the evening; so long as you don't, why don't we..." Shepard shrugged her shoulders. "Talk? Like you said, we're supposed to be getting to know each other."  
Raguel tilted his head a moment, presumably contemplating, then widened his mandibles in what Shepard was increasingly convinced was a smile. "I'd like that."

______\-----_ _ _ _ _ _

"You're Alliance aren't you?"  
A curious grin lit Shepard's face. "How'd you guess?"  
"The way you stand," Raguel pointed out, gesturing vaguely to her back.  
"Ah," Shepard nodded, understanding. "That'd do it."  
It was no secret that those in the military had a tendency to stand with their backs ramrod straight, often with feet shoulder with apart – some, like Shepard, even had a habit of moving to the 'at ease' position in casual company. She reflexively rolled her shoulders at the mention of her posture, prompting her muscles to relax. "I can't say I'm familiar with the turian military, but you seem to do the same sort of thing...?"  
"We do," Raguel replied after a sip of his drink, moving to lean against the wall then. She wondered if he was also reminding his body to relax. "I joined the Infantry when I was sixteen."  
Shepard's eyebrows rose. "Really? That's so young."  
"Is it?" Raguel asked, sounding confused. "I started boot camp a year earlier, like everyone else."  
Shepard just blinked at him, suddenly quite aware of their cultural differences. Evidently, joining the military at fifteen was quite normal amongst turians. Perhaps even expected.  
"I signed up for the Alliance as soon as I was eighteen. My father was in the Alliance himself – I'd known I wanted to join since I was pretty young." All true, but a common enough story. There would be no reason to connect it to her or Anderson. "So how long have you been in the Infantry then?"  
He narrowed his eyes at her, but to her surprise, his tone sounded playful. "I'm pretty sure I heard once that it's rude to ask a human their age."  
She laughed once. "Guess it's a good thing you're not a human then."  
"True, but since _you_ are, and you're the one _asking_ – when did everyone leave?"  
Shepard blinked and glanced around, suddenly noticing that the room was indeed practically empty. Only a few small factions remained, lingering over drinks or food, talking quietly. All at once, she became aware of how much time had passed – she'd been talking to Raguel for hours! She hadn't even noticed.  
"Wow, it's really late, isn't it?" She noted, glancing at the digital clock behind the bar they'd been idling near. Her head buzzed pleasantly from the drinks she'd nursed over time, perhaps contributing to how quickly time had passed.  
"It has," Raguel agreed. "Guess I'd better be getting home." Was it her imagination, or did he sound a little disappointed?  
"Me too," she agreed, then suddenly became very interested in the state of her nails, refusing to tear her gaze from her fingertips. "I don't suppose you're coming to the next masquerade?"  
He coughed into his fist; she'd noticed he had a habit of doing that when he felt awkward. "I was thinking I might."  
She found the bravery to look up. "Well, maybe I'll see you there."  
He laughed. "But how am I supposed to know it's you?" He motioned towards their masks, then teased, "All you humans look alike anyway, and these certainly don't help."  
She chuckled and replied "I guess we'll just have to leave it up to fate."

**Author's Note:**

> SO THIS KINDA GOT AWAY FROM ME  
> I've never written a chapter this LONG holy shit.


End file.
